Leaving
by Alamandorious
Summary: A Colonel prepares to take a regiment of Guardsmen away from their homeworld.


Leaving

A Warhammer 40K shortfic by Alamandorious.

It was winter. Snow lightly drifted down from the sky in tiny, crystalline flakes over the assembly area. Six thousand soldiers of the Imperial Guard milled about, along with countless scores of civilians...family, friends...all of whom had come to wish them a fond farewell. Husbands and Wives alike wept as they held their loved ones for one last time, children of some of the older soldiers hugged their parent goodbye. Very few, if any, would be coming back to their homeworld. Some would die...others would set down roots on a new world when their duty was finished. Even with the miracle of Warp travel, the Imperium was a vast place.

The commanding officer of the 512th Kanadienne regiment stood off to one side of the assembly, unnoticed by most of his men. He let them say their final goodbyes; it was the least that he could do. Glancing down at his datapad, he read over the carefully tailored speech, produced by some of the finest writers on the planet. It spoke of duty to the Emperor, and honour in their glorious task...platitudes and meaningless drivel. With a sneer of disdain he let it fall into the snow and advanced up onto the stage.

The Regimental Commisar, wearing his full dress uniform, saw him approaching; Colonel Van Erstein was hard to miss, with his neatly pressed uniform with its many medals, and his long white winter cammo cloak. He wasn't a big man, but his stern presence more than made up for that small oversight. Clearing his throat, the Commisar stepped forward to the mic and spoke in a commanding, authorative tone.

"Men of the 512th, form up and come to attention! Prepare to be addressed by Colonel Van Erstein!" he said, his voice echoing over the assembly ground thanks to the multiple bullhorns that surrounded the area.

Almost as one the regiment began to pull together, seperating themselves from their loved ones with reluctance. Despite the large number of soldiers, it only took them less than five minutes to assemble into their platoons, divisions, and finally into the regiment proper, such was their efficiency. The Van Erstein looked upon them with a small bit of pride; he admired efficiency, and the fact that his soldiers were so quick to assemble almost made him smile. Almost.

Once everyone was in position, Regimental Commisar Aleksandr stepped away from the mic, pausing only to snap a perfect, sharp salute to the commanding officer. The Colonel returned the salute, and took his place at the mic. For several moments, he simply swiveled his head from right to left, slowly taking in the entire regiment. No sound was heard; even their air was filled with a pregnant silence. Every single last Guardsmen stood at attention, their eyes straight forward.

"Men and Women of the 512th Kanadienne, stand at ease," he said, gruffly, and watched as the soldiers shifted their stances,"As you well know, the Emperor has called upon our world to produce a regiment for the upcoming crusade. He has asked that this world produce its five hundred and twelfth regiment, and we have done as he commanded. You are that regiment, you bear the honour of serving our Master, our God-Emperor."

He paused for a moment, letting his words sink in, before continuing,"There was a speech prepared for me...filled with meaningless platitudes and half-truths. You have donned your wargear and volunteered for service, and therefore I will show you the proper respect by not sullying your ears with such meaningless nonsense. The truth of the matter is, war is neither glorious, nor enjoyable. War is hell. Many of you will die, many will be maimed. Some may even be captured by the enemy, and you will wish that you had died. Do not let yourself be tricked into thinking that this will be easy, that victory is assured simply by us showing up on the battlefield...that our enemies will cower and throw themselves upon their own knives. That will not happen."

Again he paused, looking for some kind of stirring...any kind of reaction. When he saw none, a faint smile curved his lips,"It is your duty as Guardsmen, as servants of the Emperor, to die standing. Your enemies are determined; let your will become iron. Your enemies have many weapons; become so profficient with your own that you destroy their advantage. Your enemies even have the ability to use the energies of the Warp against you; fortify your souls with the words of the Emperor, stop the poison before it can claim you," his voice became louder,"Work together. Fight together. Die together. We are the Imperial Guard, we will not suffer the foulness of Chaos to exist. We will not suffer the Xeno's that seek to tear the Imperium apart. We will fight them, and drive them back! We will run them through with our blades, blast them with our artillary, and crush them beneath the treads of our battle tanks! Only when we have bested and crushed our foes will we claim victory! Victory is the only true glory, the only glory a soldier needs to concern him or herself with!"

The Colonel slammed his fist down onto the podium, the loud meaty thump echoing througout the assembly grounds,"Do this, and you will be true servants of the Emperor. Do this, and you will be true guardians of Humanity!"

As his voice echo'd among the mountains that mostly surrounded the town, Van Erstein could almost feel the swelling of pride amongst his soldiers...and even amongst the civilians. The time for the sadness of seperation had ended. Now was the time for pride in the soldiers about to sacrifice everything they'd ever known to defend the Imperium. The Colonel noted the discipline of the troops...not one cheer, not one clap...they still stood at ease without so much as a sound...but the glint in their eyes spoke volumes.

Again he addressed them, his voice returning to a normal tone,"That is all. Ready yourselves for departure; Chimera troop transports will be arriving shortly."

And, with that, he stepped away from the microphone, moving to leave the stage. Aleksandr followed after him, lauding the speech with high praise...but the Colonel's mind was already somewhere else, making rudimentary plans for their first landing. He had no time for platitudes or praise...he was a soldier of the Imperial Guard, and it was his duty to ensure his men won their battles, or die trying.

Briefly, he looked up when he felt a touch of cold on his cheeks, having forgotten the falling snow. As he made his way to his temporary command tent to grab a few dataplates containing logistical reports, he heard the sound of rumbling engines in the distance...he paused, taking in his home town one last time...allowing himself one, final luxury...before turning his back on it and entering his tent.


End file.
